“Very large country—very fine country—inhabitants very polite. Big city Saint Petersburg. People may not say exactly what they think, I hear; but that’s nothing to me, you know,” observed our friend.
“Oh, that’s quite a mistake, my dear sir,” replied the stranger; “people may say exactly what they think, I assure you: no one interferes with them. Now, for instance, in the friendly way in which we are talking, one man might unbosom himself to another of his most secret thoughts, and no harm could come to him.”
“Very pleasant state of society; exactly what I like,” said Evergreen, who thereupon, taking the hint, launched forth on several little bits of his own family history, with which he was fond of entertaining any casual acquaintance.
The strange officer appeared to be listening attentively, and finally offered to call upon Evergreen and to show him the lions of Moscow.
Cousin Giles awoke while the conversation was going on, and was exceedingly amused at what he overheard, especially with the warm way in which Evergreen accepted the stranger’s offer. After the latter had made numerous inquiries about Cousin Giles, and Fred, and Harry, he got up and went into another carriage.
“Wonderfully polite man that was who came and talked to me last night,” observed Evergreen in the morning, after the passengers had rubbed their eyes and stretched themselves. “I wonder who he can be. A man of some consequence, I should think.”
Among the passengers were some merchants from the north, who had never before been at Moscow. They had for some time been putting their heads out of the windows, and as they caught sight of a few gilt domes and gaily-coloured roofs, and some convents scattered about, which was all that was visible of the holy city, they began crossing themselves and bowing most vigorously. This ceremony lasted till the train rushed into the station. The luggage was handed out as each person presented his ticket, and Mr Evergreen found, to his delight, that his hat-box was safe. A vast number of ishvoshtsticks presented their tickets, and offered their droskies for hire, and, two being selected, away the whole party rattled through broadish streets, paved with pebbles, up and down hill, among gardens, and green-roofed houses, and pink, and yellow, and grey, and blue walls, till they reached their hotel.
They had been recommended to go to that of Monsieur Chollet, in the Grand Lubianka, and they had no reason to regret their choice. Nowhere could a more civil, active, attentive landlord be found. Every language seemed to flow with the greatest ease from his tongue. He would be talking to three or four customers in German, and English, and Italian, addressing his wife in French, and scolding his servants in their native Russian, answering fifty questions, giving advice, and receiving accounts, all in one breath. He did all sorts of things better than any one else. He went to market, came back and cooked the dinner, mixed the salad, and in another instant appeared dressed as if for a ball, and took his place at the head of the table. His dinners were very good, somewhat in the German fashion; and his rooms were very comfortable, and excessively clean for Russia.
As soon as our friends had dressed and breakfasted, they sallied forth to gain a general view of the city. Evergreen said he thought he ought to wait for his new acquaintance, who had promised to call; but an English merchant, who happened to overhear him, assured him that he must not be delicate on the subject, as the person in question was simply one of the guards of the train, and that he was employed by the police to pick up any information he could about passengers.
“Had he thought you a suspicious character, you would certainly have been honoured by a visit from him,” he added.